THE WOLVES WILL CHASE YOU IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT
Drunk and driven by a devil's hunger...
The loners called this land the Battlefield. A light breeze ruffled the mans fur as he gazed out across the plain. The air smelt sweetly of the scent of blood and sweat as well as the promise of a good fight for a wandering male. Hárekr was in need of stimulation and there was no better way than through a good fight. Lifting his voice to the sky he howled for a challenger. Surely someone might come along and ease his boredom?
In the meantime Hárekr was content to lightly stretch his limbs and prepare himself for the battle ahead. Oh, he could almost feel it… the excitement shivering over his skin like electricity, making his fur stand on end. Blood. The ground was thirsting for it.
